


Trust in You

by Siivin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siivin/pseuds/Siivin
Summary: Nott went from not knowing Caleb to trusting him with her life in about sixteen hours, because sometimes life doesn't give you much of a choice.The rest of these shady assholes though? Nott doesn't trust them as far as she can throw them, and she doubts she ever will.Or, how Nott comes to trust each member of the Mighty Nein.





	1. Jester

As much as Nott liked Jester, she didn’t trust her in the slightest.

She wanted to, of course. She liked Jester a lot. She was the first person in a very long time aside from Caleb to treat Nott like a real person instead of vermin. They’d been traveling together for almost two weeks now and Nott’s appearance had never seemed to bother her; in fact, she barely seemed to register it at all. She talked to Nott constantly, chattering on about everything in her field of view, asking Nott questions and opinions on a variety of inane subjects, and it was . . . well, it was nice. Nott had almost forgotten what it was like to have – a friend? A companion, at least. Someone who saw her instead of just green skin and pointy teeth. 

The problem was that Jester was - well, naive. She was a sweet girl, of course, but she was just that – a girl. She’d clearly been sheltered growing up, and there were going to be a lot of harsh lessons for her now that she was out in the wider world. 

Nott liked Jester a lot, and her heart ached to think of all the pain Jester had yet to endure. She trusted Jester to have good intentions, to try her best. But to trust her when things got messy? To trust her with her life? With Caleb’s life? 

Not a chance. Maybe one day, if they all survived that long, Jester would be a teammate she could truly rely on. Until then, Nott could only hope the poor girl wouldn’t break under the stress of adventuring.

Jester was skipping along the road now, chattering away despite the general lack of enthusiasm from the rest of the group. 

“Okay, ummmm . . . Beau!” 

“Yeah?” Beau wasn’t walking so much as stomping along the road, small puffs of dust kicking up with every step. Jester was undeterred. 

“Would you rather . . . hmm . . . oh, I know! Would you rather fight a dragon all alone, orrrr kiss Molly?”

“Fight the dragon,” Beau said without hesitation. 

“Hey,” Molly said, frowning. “I’ll have you know -”

But what was promising to turn into an entertaining argument was cut off as an arrow slammed into Fjord’s shoulder. He cursed as he stumbled, and the scene exploded into chaos. 

The bandits didn’t look particularly tough but they outnumbered the group two to one, and Nott felt a small spark of fear spring to life. She tried to shake it off – it wasn’t just her and Caleb anymore, after all. She’d fought that weird devil toad thing with this group and they’d done alright then, right? Probably they could handle this fine. Probably.

Still, she took the first opportunity to slip into the trees lining the road and survey the battle from the safety of cover.

It wasn’t looking great. Fjord had taken another couple of arrows and seemed to be wavering. Caleb was lurking by the trees, mumbling to himself as he pulled spell components out of his pockets. Beau and Molly had gotten up close and were trying to take down the archers, who seemed intent on targeting Fjord. Even as Nott watched, another arrow found its way past his breastplate and Fjord finally dropped to the ground. He didn’t get back up and Jester cursed, moving to heal him, but she was intercepted by more bandits. 

Nott aimed and fired, falling into the familiar mechanical rhythm of battle until she was distracted by a cry of pain from Caleb’s direction. She whipped around to find him staggering back, blood spurting from his side. She watched Caleb raise the hand not wrapped around his injury and a firebolt exploded across the face of his assailant, who dropped his sword and started clawing at the flames creeping across his skin.

Nott dropped the man with a crossbow bolt through the eye, and Caleb gave a shaky thumbs up to her general direction. Nott hesitated for a moment. She was loathe to turn her attention away from Caleb, but she didn’t see any other bandits around him and Fjord was still unmoving on the ground, and so she turned back to clearing a path for Jester. 

She brought down two more bandits as Jester felled her last opponent and darted over to Fjord. She knelt beside him for just a moment and Nott saw the familiar blue flash of Jester’s healing magic taking hold. For a moment Nott’s heart clenched as nothing seemed to change, but Jester’s relief was visible even from this distance as she stood and drew her sickle once more, so Nott just had to trust that everything was alright as she returned her attention to the battle. 

Beau was a whirlwind of force in the center of the bandits, her staff cracking against hands and weapons and skulls, and she at least seemed to be making a dent in the bandits’ numbers. Two men were already down at her feet and another was staggering dizzily after a particularly hard thump to the head. Molly’s swords shone with a cold light, frost crackling along the edges, and every so often a flash of flame shot by as Caleb got off another firebolt. Jester was carving about her with her sickle, not terribly effectively but wildly enough to keep her opponents well away. Nott brought down another two bandits with well-placed bolts and for a moment, it seemed like they might all come through this.

And then a horrible, choking cry seemed to cut straight through the din of battle to shiver down her spine, and she turned just in time to see a bandit sliding his sword from Caleb’s chest. Caleb collapsed bonelessly to the ground, blood seeping into a pool around him at an alarming rate.

Nott’s vision went hazy with panic and before she knew what she was doing she had broken cover to sprint towards the bandit, short sword in hand. He had turned back to where Beau and Molly were still surrounded and Nott sprang onto his back, bringing her sword down in a deadly flash. She jumped off even as the bandit dropped beneath her, already forgotten as she ran to check on Caleb. 

“Jester!” she screamed as she felt for a pulse. She found one, barely. _“Jester!”_ She saw Jester look over and curse.

Jester ducked one last swing from the nearest bandit and disengaged, running towards Nott and Caleb. She dropped to her knees, skidding to a halt beside them, careless of the blood-soaked mud staining her dress. 

She reached out and with a flash of power the wound closed over, leaving nothing but an angry red patch of skin under a torn shirt. Caleb’s ragged breathing immediately evened out, color returning to his face.

“Is he okay?” Nott asked anxiously. “He’s not waking up, heal him again!” 

“He’s okay, he just needs a little rest now,” Jester said. “But we should probably finish taking care of these bandits probably, so they can’t hurt him again.” She struggled to her feet, swaying a little as she turned to look at the battlefield, and for the first time Nott noticed she was covered in blood. Hopefully most of it was from the bandits, but it was impossible to tell beneath the grime, and Nott was distracted from looking closer as Jester let out a distressed cry. “Molly!” 

Nott looked up to find Molly sprawled on the ground. Beau was standing over him, facing down the last of the bandits, but even as Nott fumbled for her crossbow Beau went down as well in a spray of blood. Nott had no idea if either of them were breathing, but she didn’t have time to worry as the four remaining men stalked towards her and Jester with grim looks.

She did the math quickly. She didn’t have time to shoot them all before they reached her and Jester. She wasn’t great at close combat. And Jester was . . . well, Jester. Enthusiastic, but unlikely to make a difference.

“Oh . . . fuck,” Nott said, for lack of anything else to say. She snuck a swig from her flask and leveled her crossbow at the approaching men. Just because they were going to die here didn’t mean she had to make it easy. “Alright fuckers, come and get some!” 

“You know what?” Jester suddenly announced, fury crackling in every word. She strode towards the bandits with her sickle held loosely at her side and Nott could do nothing but watch in horror as she reached for the first man. This was it, she guessed. Jester had finally snapped. 

“You are _not_ very nice people,” Jester continued. The man she was reaching for hesitated a moment, looking back as his compatriots in confusion before shrugging and lifting his sword for a fatal strike. But before the blow could fall, Jester’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “And you really should not have hurt my friends.” 

Sickly green magic burst from her hand where it touched the man’s wrist, dancing over the skin and crawling up his arm and over his chest. And everywhere the light danced, the skin cracked and blackened, weeping sores opening as the flesh started to rot away.

The man screamed as he dropped, and Jester used the opportunity to strike down another one of the bandits with her sickle as everyone stared in mute horror. Nott startled back to attention, managing to bring down one of the remaining two men with her crossbow as the screaming man went silent. 

Jester reached towards the remaining bandit, her face a grim mask of determination as the horrible green energy crackled around her hand, but he was already backing up, terror in his expression before he dropped his sword and sprinted away.

“Yeah that’s right! Run away!” Jester yelled at his retreating back. “That’s what you get for messing with my friends!” But her stony expression was crumbling into panicked desperation as she ran towards Beau and Molly, and Nott remembered that their problems weren’t over. 

Glancing back to reassure herself that Caleb was still alright, Nott scurried over to meet Jester at Molly’s side. Judging by her steady breathing and unblemished skin Beau had already been stabilized, and now Jester’s hands skated over Molly’s skin as his wounds began to close. 

Nott stared in equal parts wonder and horror. She could hardly reconcile this image – Jester’s hands glowing with the comforting blue light Nott had come to associate with her magic, tears in her eyes as she healed her friends – with what she had just witnessed Jester do to the bandit. She honestly hadn’t thought Jester capable of such a vicious spell, although she was certainly glad to be proven wrong in this case. 

Jester staggered to her feet, scanning the bloody battlefield for any further threats. Her eyes widened as they landed on Nott.

“Oh, Nott! You didn’t tell me you were hurt too!” 

Nott looked down in confusion to find a growing stain along her side. Well. That would certainly explain the ache in her ribs. She prodded at the gash experimentally, wincing at the sudden pain. 

“I didn’t know I was,” she said. “When did that happen?” 

“Here, let me fix it,” Jester said, pressing forward anxiously to lay a hand along the wound before Nott could protest. Nott grimaced at the familiar but unpleasant sensation of skin and flesh stitching itself back together, but it did feel much better afterwards. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “It was only a graze, I’m fine. What about you? You’re covered in blood!” 

“Oh, well, most of it is not mine,” Jester said, obviously trying for nonchalance and missing by a mile. She was distracted from whatever she was going to say next by a groan as Fjord shifted and pushed himself to a sitting position. “Oh! Fjord!” 

The next few minutes was mostly a confused blur as the remaining members of the party woke up in varying states of disarray. Nott collapsed on the ground next to Caleb and started drinking steadily, trying to forget the feeling of absolute certainty they were all about to die. Jester flitted anxiously from person to person, checking on wounds as though they might have somehow reopened while her back was turned. 

Eventually, everyone had struggled to their feet and the group moved on from the corpse-filled valley, in a considerably more sour mood than before. Even Jester was quiet now, staring at the ground as she trudged along behind the group. Nott fell back to walk beside her, trying to summon a smile although she suspected it was more of a grimace. 

“That was a pretty cool trick you pulled back there,” she said. “Gross, but cool. I thought we were goners!” 

Jester frowned a little. “I don’t like using that spell,” she admitted. “It feels bad. Like normally my spells feel really good, you know? Like warm and kind of fizzy. But that spell feels cold and sharp.” She wrinkled her nose. “And it is pretty gross. Did you see that guy’s skin? It was like, falling off!” 

“I know!” Nott crowed, relieved to hear a little of Jester’s customary pep back in her voice. “That was so cool!” 

Jester smiled and then stumbled. She halted, swaying slightly, and then simply collapsed to the ground.

“Jester!” 

Nott’s screech halted the rest of the group, who turned in alarm. Fjord’s falchion was dripping seawater from its sudden summons as he looked around for the threat, Caleb echoing him with flames dancing at his fingertips. Beau pushed past them as soon as she saw Jester, Molly following close behind.

“What the fuck happened?” she demanded, turning Jester over and searching frantically for the cause. 

It wasn’t hard to find. The hole in her stomach was still oozing blood, mixing into the blood and mud already covering her dress. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Okay,” Beau said. “Why didn’t she heal herself?”

Nott just stared at the steady trickle of blood, dark against Jester’s increasingly pale skin. 

“It doesn’t matter, we gotta take care of this,” Molly said. Even as he said it, Fjord appeared at his side with a healing potion dug from his pack. 

Nott waited with bated breath as Beau poured the potion down Jester’s throat. Almost immediately, the wound closed over, Jester’s skin regaining its typical hue, and everyone breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. 

“Alright. Well I don’t think we’re gonna make it much further today,” Fjord said, running a hand through his hair. “May as well set up camp?” 

“Gods, _please_,” Beau said. She lifted Jester and, staggering slightly under the weight, moved off to the side of the road. 

Nott sat next to Jester as the rest of the group started to set up camp. It was only a few minutes until she started to stir, blinking slowly as she propped herself up and looked around. 

“What the hell was that?” Nott snapped at her. 

“What was what?” Jester asked fuzzily. 

“You passed out because you didn’t heal yourself.” 

“Oh,” Jester said. She laid back down in the grass, apparently content to stay right where she was. “I didn’t really have the energy for any more spells.” 

“Then why did you heal me?” Nott said. “That was barely a scratch!” 

Jester sat back up. “I didn’t want you to be hurt, Nott!” she said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my friend and I can’t let you be hurt if I can fix you instead!” 

Nott plucked at the grass beside her as she pondered that. “Well, you’re my friend too,” she said at last. Jester visibly brightened at the verbal confirmation. “So . . . be careful, alright? You gotta take care of yourself too. You really scared us!” 

“Sorry,” Jester said. “I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay, you know? Everyone was super hurt and it took so much energy to cast that rotting spell and I was like super afraid I wouldn’t be able to heal everyone and I guess I got a little carried away.” 

On an impulse, Nott moved over to hug Jester, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. “It’s okay,” she said, “we’re just happy you’re okay. And you did save everyone! So I guess we can’t be too mad.” 

Nott had once heard it said that being kind took a special type of strength. She hadn’t understood it at the time – being nice didn’t take that much effort, after all. But as Jester returned the hug enthusiastically, she thought she understood now. 

Jester might be a little naive, and she was definitely kind, but she had proven today that that certainly didn’t mean she was weak. 

Nott wasn’t used to trusting people. She wasn’t used to having friends. But if this is what it was like – this calm certainty that she was safe here, with Jester, that she could rely on her and be relied on in return, that she could maybe lower her guard just a bit - 

Well. Maybe there was something to this “trust” thing after all.


	2. Beau

“Here.” 

Beau slammed a tankard down and shoved it roughly across the table, sending a small wave of ale over the side. Nott eyed it suspiciously. 

“What’s this for?” she asked, pulling it closer. She was confused, but she wasn’t about to turn down free booze. 

“I thought you might, you know. Want a drink,” Beau said, and Nott got a sinking feeling that this might be about what happened earlier. “After earlier,” Beau added, and Nott sighed.

“Thank you very much for the – for the kind thought,” she began haltingly, “but it wasn’t a big deal, okay? Let’s just forget about it.” 

“You sure? Because it seemed like kind of a big deal,” Beau said. “That guy was an _asshole_.” 

“Yeah, he kinda was,” Nott mumbled into her ale. 

“_Kind of_?” Beau said. “Nott, he called you – he called you some pretty nasty stuff man.” Specifically, he’d called her an ugly piece of shit that should be put down before it murdered someone who mattered, but Nott appreciated Beau’s tact in omitting the details. She shrugged.

“I’ve been called worse,” she said, and set about steadily draining her mug so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact. It didn’t work, because when she’d finished her ale and set the mug down Beau was still staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

“Besides, you uh, put a stop to it before it got bad,” she added. “So thank you. Again. For that.”

She’d been alone in the bar while everyone else had been up in their rooms or out shopping. They’d been on the road for weeks now, and it was nice being in the city again. Everyone had been in a good mood, the tension of weeks of getting on each other’s nerves in the close confines of a cart suddenly broken. She’d felt good. She’d felt – safe. 

She’d been stupid. 

Caleb had begged off for the evening, going upstairs to resummon Frumpkin, who’d been discorporated for almost a week now after a fight with some kind of bog monster. Jester had gone shopping with Molly, Yasha and Fjord. Beau had said something vague about finding some fun and wandered off. Nott had mostly just wanted to drink and relax without anyone bothering her, so she stayed at the bar. 

She’d looked around before pulling her mask down to drink, but she was relaxed and comfortable and she hadn’t looked hard enough. Stupid. Two months of traveling with people who liked her, or at least didn’t hate her, and she got sloppy. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

She’d barely noticed the man until he was standing at the table, squinting at her, and she’d dropped her mug and pulled her mask up but it had been too late. 

“I thought I smelled a goblin in here,” the man announced loudly, and she shrank back a little at the malicious gleam in his eye. She’d met his type before, always looking for an excuse for wanton violence, taking pleasure in cruelty and pain as long as they thought they could get away with it. Unfortunately for her, when it came to goblins they often could.

“Your kind ain’t allowed ‘round here,” he continued. “Crownsguard’ll pick you up eventually. But an ugly little piece of shit like you, someone really ought to put you down before you go hurting someone who matters.”

Her crossbow had been upstairs but she’d had a death grip on her dagger as he started to move in, her mind racing. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other patrons this early in the afternoon. Caleb was here but he was upstairs, distracted and unlikely to hear any commotion. Her glance darted back and forth between him and the stairs, wondering if she could get past him and make it to the stairs before he caught her, when the point was rendered suddenly moot as Beau’s staff whistled through the air to crack against his head. 

The man staggered back, losing his grip on the wicked-looking knife he’d been drawing, and Beau wasted no time in moving between him and Nott. 

“I suggest you apologize to my friend here,” she said coldly. “And then I suggest you leave. Permanently.” 

“That’s a goblin, you lunatic!” the man said, clutching his bleeding head. “That thing’ll put a dagger in your back as soon as look at you. It’s what they _do_. Back off and let me put it out of my misery.” 

Beau didn’t move an inch. “We can do this the hard way if you want.” 

The man had only snarled, lunging at her with the knife. The ensuing fight had been extremely brutal and extremely fast, and by the time Nott had made it to her feet the man was gurgling on the ground, one arm at an odd angle and almost certainly with several broken ribs. Beau stood over him with her staff pressed lightly against his throat. 

“Still want to do this the hard way?” Beau asked, seemingly bored. She might have actually been bored. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. 

The man whined something incomprehensible and Beau lifted her staff slightly. 

“I hope that thing – tears you – apart – you stupid -” he gasped, and Beau rolled her eyes. She lifted a foot and brought it down hard in a very personal area, and the man choked and curled into a fetal position. Then her staff cracked against his head once more and he fell limp and quiet.

“Is – is he dead?” was all Nott could say. 

There was a moment’s pause as Beau bent down and checked his pulse. “Nah,” she said eventually. “Why, do you want him to be?” 

Nott chuckled nervously but was brought up short when Beau’s deadly serious expression didn’t change. “Oh, uh – no. No thank you.” 

Beau shrugged and with one fluid movement heaved the man over her shoulder, walking towards the door. Nott was pretty sure his head hit a few tables and the doorframe before Beau tossed him none too gently into the street. She headed back over to Nott, dusting off her hands. 

“You okay?” Beau asked, looking her over.

“Oh, me? Yeah, I – I’m fine! You’re the one he attacked! Are _you_ okay?”

Beau scoffed. “Yeah, that dude couldn’t have hit the broad side of a manticore. I almost felt bad beating him up.” Her eyes went hard again. “Almost. That guy was a real piece of work.” 

“Yeah,” Nott agreed vaguely. Her adrenaline was crashing, leaving her weak and almost giddy and she suddenly wanted very much to go curl up in the corner of her room, safely behind Caleb’s silver thread. “Uh – thank you. For helping me.”

“Hey, any time,” Beau said. “Some asshole ever bothers you, you let me know okay? I’ve got your back.” Nott gave her a shaky smile and mumbled something incomprehensible as she fled to the stairs and the comfort of her room.

Now here she was, in the bar again hours later. Just when it finally felt safe to come out, and now Beau of all people was ambushing her with talks about – _feelings_, or something. Nott squinted at her suspiciously. Maybe she’d been replaced with a shapeshifter. She’d heard of creatures who could do that, steal people’s faces and take their place. It seemed more likely than Beau volunteering to talk about feelings, anyway. 

Beau was waving off her thanks. “I mean it. ‘S no problem. Anyone ever gives you trouble, let us know,” Beau insisted. “That asshole was _way_ outta line.”

Nott shrugged, staring into her empty mug. “He wasn’t – wrong, you know? I mean, he was about me,” she added hastily, catching sight of Beau’s darkening expression. “But he was right about goblins in general. We’re – they’re _evil_, Beau. They’re monsters.” 

“You’re not,” Beau said. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, glowering over her own mug. 

“I’m an exception,” Nott said. “The only exception. Goblins are murderers, and thieves, and they’re awful. Being a goblin is – is a horrible thing,” she finished bitterly. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Beau said stubbornly.

“Well it is!” Nott snapped irritably. “No sane person would want to – would want to be this! Just look at me!” Beau opened her mouth to speak but Nott ranted over her, not in the mood to hear hollow platitudes at the moment. “Goblins are evil. They just are, okay? That man was right, they _should_ be shot on sight. And maybe someday I’ll be able to get out of this body and not have to hide anymore. But until then I’m stuck being this – this monster that everyone hates. That they _should_ hate.”

They were both silent for a few minutes after that, and Nott began to hope that Beau was going to let it drop. No such luck though, as Beau suddenly slammed her mug down and stared back at Nott intently.

“I don’t buy that,” Beau said. “I don’t believe an entire group of people is inherently evil. Maybe your clan was, okay, maybe all the goblins in your hometown were. I don’t know. But what I do know is that where you come from doesn’t define you. And you shouldn’t let other people’s expectations dictate your life. ‘Cause people are assholes, okay?”

_Easy for you to say_, Nott almost said. She hadn’t seen the things Nott had, didn’t know what it was like to be in this monstrous form. But then she looked closer at Beau, at the way her fingers were wrapped so tightly around her mug the knuckles were turning white, the way she wasn’t quite meeting Nott’s eyes. 

Beau wasn’t good at expressing herself or talking about feelings. She liked to act flippant, like nothing bothered her, and it had taken Nott longer than she’d like to admit to realize how much of that was an act. She didn’t know a lot about Beau’s past – nobody did, as far as she knew – but she’d gathered that Beau hadn’t left her family or the Cobalt Soul on good terms, and she suspected Beau was more torn up about that than she let on. 

Maybe Beau knew a little more about how Nott felt than she was giving her credit for. 

“You’re a good person Nott,” Beau continued, apparently mistaking her silence for disagreement. “If people can’t see you for you, that’s their problem. And if anyone ever gives you trouble – about being a goblin or for anything else – you know you can come to us, right? We’re all here for you. We want to help you, and we want you to feel good about yourself, okay?” 

“Well, easier said than done,” Nott admitted. “But . . . okay. I’ll try?” 

“Cool, cool. Okay.” They both sat in silence for a moment before Beau spoke again. “So . . . you wanna get really drunk and forget that we talked about feelings?” 

“Oh my gods yes,” Nott said fervently.

“Oh thank gods. I’ll get the first round,” Beau said, pushing her chair back. Nott couldn’t help but smile as she watched Beau leave for the bar.

Beau might not know the whole story, and she definitely didn’t understand just how evil goblins were. But Nott had to admit, it was nice to know that someone like Beau had her back not just in a fight, but as a friend.


	3. Mollymauk

Nott came to consciousness slowly, awoken by the jolting of the cart as it passed over rough ground. 

No. No wait, that’s not right; she’s not in the cart. She could feel arms around her, cradling her close to someone’s chest. She’s being carried? 

Nott tried to parse what was happening, but her thoughts felt like the molasses she sometimes swiped from Caleb, all thick and murky and slow. Someone was carrying her. Was she sick? That would explain the dull ache spreading through her body and the syrupy quality of her thoughts.

“Caleb?” she croaked. But when she opened her eyes, she caught sight of purple skin and a bright red coat. Through her blurry vision, she thought Molly looked worried, but when she blinked and managed to focus he was back to his normal smirking self so maybe she was just imagining things. 

“Sorry to disappoint dear, but it’s just me,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

Nott thought for a minute, but she kept losing track of what she was supposed to be answering. “Mollymauk,” she said slowly. 

“Yep.” 

Nott thought for another minute, her gaze drifting away from Molly and then freezing when she caught sight of a feathered shaft rising from her chest. Molly’s hand covered another shaft rising from her abdomen, pushing down on the wound as blood pooled around it.

“Molly, there’s arrows in me,” she said in suprise, a dull alarm spreading under the thick confusion covering her mind. She reached for one of the shafts only to have her hand knocked away by Molly.

“Leave them alone, they’re stopping you from bleeding out. How are you feeling, other than the obvious?” 

“Fuzzy,” Nott said. “Hurts.” Waves of agony washed out from the wounds, dulled by the fog in her mind but still exhausting. Her eyes slipped shut and she was ready to welcome the relief of sleep when a sharp stinging sensation on her face startled her back awake. 

“Hey, hey, none of that. Stay awake,” Molly said, alarm back on his face. “I think those were poisoned. If you fall asleep you might not wake up, so stay awake til we get back to camp, alright? Jester will heal you right up and then you can sleep for days if you like.”

Nott groaned, but forced her eyes to stay open. 

“Come on, stay with me. That message spell you use, can you use it to call Jester?”

Nott reached into the pocket that held her copper wire, slowly to avoid jostling the arrows. She pulled the wire out and held it to her mouth, twisting and shaping it as she did.

“Caleb? Caleb can you hear me? You can respond to this message!”

Molly sighed in exasperation. “_Jester_, Nott. Call Jester, you can talk to Caleb later.”

Nott wasn’t terribly inclined to listen to Molly, but there wasn’t an answer from Caleb so she tried Jester anyway. Still nothing.

“They’re not in range,” she said. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t, could she? She wasn’t entirely sure why but she was sure she wasn’t supposed to sleep right now. 

“Do you have any other way to contact someone? We really need Jester over here now if not sooner.”

Nott thought for a few moments before lighting up. “Oh! Caleb and I have a signal that works from far away!”

“Fantastic. Can you use it?” 

If Molly hadn’t been so distracted, moving through the dense forest at top speed with forty pounds of goblin in his arms, he probably would have seen her lift her crossbow. Instead, he barely managed to twist away from the ensuing explosion, shielding Nott from the wave of heat and debris that washed over them even from thirty feet away.

“Nott, what the _fuck!_”

“You said to signal Caleb!”

“I thought you were going to use magic! What the fuck does an explosion signal?!”

“It signals that there’s been a big explosion and to come see what’s happening!”

Molly closed his eyes briefly. “Okay. Okay, you know what? That one’s on me for not specifying. But do you remember why we’re running in the first place?” 

Nott had to think for a moment before she remembered. “Bandits?” she ventured. She remembered her and Molly had volunteered to scout out the area while the others set up camp, and she remembered the shock of the first arrow hitting her out of nowhere. The next few minutes were a confused blur in her memory. A flash of red as Mollymauk moved to engage the archer. Shouting and the clang of swords on armor as more bandits poured out of the forest. Someone cursing and then a nauseating jolt of movement as Molly swung her up and ran, too outnumbered to make a fight of it. 

“Yes, and now they know exactly where we are, thank you, so hopefully our friends will get here first.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Nott said. 

“It’s fine,” Molly said curtly. He sped up even more, but although though the new pace was jolting Nott even more than before, her wounds were hurting less. In fact, she could barely feel them at all. That was . . . probably not good. 

“Hey Molly?” she asked. 

“Yes dear?” he said distractedly, dodging through the undergrowth. It was slow going, holding Nott with one arm while trying to keep her from bleeding out with the other. He was shouldering his way past branches and vines and Nott could feel him stumble every few feet, but he didn’t seem inclined to slow down any further.

“If I die, you’ll all take care of Caleb, right? He’s very squishy and he needs a lot of help, but he doesn’t like to ask for it,” she explained. It felt, suddenly, very important that Molly understand this. 

“Well I sincerely doubt he’ll let us, so you’d better stay alive and do it yourself.” Molly’s tone was light but she could hear the stress and tension underneath. 

“That’s not really going to be an option, but if you cooperate this will all be a lot quicker,” a voice behind them said. 

“Fuck,” Molly hissed. His grip on Nott tightened and for a second she thought he was going to make another run for it, but two men stepped out of the trees in front of them, swords raised, and Molly finally came to a stop.

Nott craned her head to do a quick count as Molly turned around. At least seven men that she could see. Not good odds even if she was in any condition to fight. 

Well, there were worse ways to die. At least there wasn’t any water in sight. 

Molly knelt swiftly and deposited her at the base of a tree with an uncharacteristically grim look on his face, but when he stood and turned to face the man who had spoken there was a relaxed, easy smile on his face. 

“Well, gentlemen, I’m sure there’s a way we can settle this like rational adults,” he said, empty hands spread to his sides. If Nott hadn’t known him so well she might have been fooled, but she could see the tension in every line of his body.

“Sure,” the bandit leader agreed easily. “Just hand over the goblin and we can all be on our way.” 

“Can’t do that I’m afraid. We were actually just on our way to meet the rest of our team, so we’d really best be moving on now. I’m sure they’re looking for us.” 

“Didn’t see no one else around,” the man said. His sword was drawn but he stood loose and relaxed, confident that his quarry was trapped and outnumbered. “Hate to burst your bubble but I don’t think anyone’ll be coming to your rescue. Still, this doesn’t have to end in violence. Hand over the goblin and your coin and you can walk away from this.” 

Nott couldn’t see Molly’s face but she knew he was thinking fast, searching for a way out. “The coin’s not a problem,” he said, “but what’s the goblin to you?” 

“Bounty on ‘em in the town; a gp an ear. Easy money and we can rid the world of a few pests at the same time.” The man grinned unpleasantly, and if Nott hadn’t been having so much trouble concentrating she thought she would have been very nervous. 

“Look,” Molly said, pulling out his coin purse and tossing it to the ground in front of him. “There’s way more than two gp in there. This isn’t worth fighting over, hey? Just take the coin and we’ll be on our way, no violence necessary.”

Nott could tell he was stalling now. Unfortunately, it seemed the bandits sensed this too. The leader started walking towards Molly, still easy and relaxed as the archers behind him raised their bows again. Nott fumbled with her crossbow, but her vision was beginning to tunnel around the edges, making her vision blur and the bright green of the summer growth bleed into the mud of the forest floor. It was hard to focus on what was going on, let alone aim a weapon. 

“We’re gonna take your money either way,” the bandit said. “Last chance. Turn around and walk away and you get to keep your life.” 

Molly tensed up, both swords raised as he shifted to block Nott from the bandit’s view. The bandit sighed. 

“Your choice,” he said. “Honestly you should be thanking us for taking this trash off your hands, but we can do it the hard way.”

As the man stepped forward and raised his sword, Molly hissed out an infernal curse, causing him to stumble. Both archers fired, but their shots went wide as they twisted at the last moment to avoid hitting their leader.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” the leader growled. The two archers behind him reloaded, while the two men that had been blocking their path forward moved closer, forcing Molly to move back until he was standing almost directly over Nott. 

He looked back at her, just for a moment, and even through the haze clouding her mind Nott could see mixed resignation and apology in his face, just for the briefest instant, before both were gone, replaced by sheer determination. 

He straightened up, facing down the five men before them. “Alright then,” he snarled. “Let’s do this.” 

Several things happened very quickly then. Or maybe it just seemed that way, since time seemed to be moving a little strangely now. 

One of the archers burst into flame, screaming and dropping his bow as he frantically tried to put out the fire. 

As the other men startled and turned towards him, two blasts of green eldritch energy slammed into the leader, who stumbled and fell backwards.

The scene devolved into absolute chaos after that as the rest of the Mighty Nein arrived on the scene with their typical violent fanfare. 

“Oh, finally,” Mollymauk said, taking advantage of the distraction to run through one of the men in front of him. “What took you so long?” 

“Believe it or not, hearing an explosion from a mile away is not a very precise way of locating someone,” Caleb said from somewhere behind them, and Nott relaxed a little. Her vision was too blurry now to see much of the scene, but she was sure the Mighty Nein had it all well in hand. 

“Well never mind that,” she heard Mollymauk say, “Where’s Jester? Nott’s hurt, she needs healing, fast.” 

“I’m right here!” Jester chirped as a blue blur moved into Nott’s field of vision. “Where is – oh! Ohmygoodness Nott that looks like really super bad, but don’t worry okay, because I’m the cleric and I can heal you right up!” She knelt down next to Nott, and this close Nott could see the concern her cheerful voice was masking. “I need to take the bolts out so this might hurt a little, okay?” 

Nott hummed noncommittally, closing her eyes. She wasn’t supposed to sleep, but Caleb and Jester were here, so surely it was safe now. She was just so _tired . . ._

* * *

She didn’t get a chance to talk to Mollymauk for two days after the fight in the forest.

She’d woken up a few hours after being healed, slightly sore but otherwise fine, to find a surprisingly tense group. Jester had gripped her in a bonecrushing hug as soon as she woke, smiling shakily as she wiped away tears. Caleb had barely left her side since then, and Beau kept wandering over to awkwardly ask if she needed anything. Even Fjord was trying to be nice to her, although he kept missing the mark and landing squarely in condescending territory. 

Nobody was forthcoming with details about what exactly had happened but she was pretty sure it had been a much closer thing than anyone might have liked. In any case, nobody seemed keen on leaving her on her own for a while. 

She ended up getting her chance a couple nights later, when Fjord inadvertently woke her while trying to wake Molly for second watch. Still wrapped in her blankets, she waited a little while, until she was sure everyone else was fast asleep, and then shuffled up. 

It was a warm summer night, but she kept her blanket clutched around her shoulders as she approached Molly as though it might hide her. Molly was sitting a ways away from the fire, gazing up at the beautifully clear night sky, but he glanced around as she rose and cocked an eyebrow as she approached him. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as she drew near. Nott shrugged. 

“I was just thinking.” 

“A dangerous pastime,” Molly said jovially. Nott took a seat beside him and for a minute they were both silent, looking up at the star-strewn sky. Crickets chirped softly around them, a gentle summer breeze swaying through the grass.

“You could have left me there,” she said suddenly, turning from the stars to watch Molly’s face. 

“Hmm?” he asked, seemingly distracted, but Nott was sure he’d heard her just fine.

“Back in the forest. You could have left me there when I got shot, or handed me over to those bounty hunters. You could’ve told everyone there was nothing you could do and nobody would’ve known.” 

A few unreadable expressions flitted across his face in quick succession before it settled into a mask of indifference. “Hmm. I suppose I could have. Guess I was feeling generous.” 

“You would’ve died if you’d fought those bandits though,” Nott pointed out.

“Maybe. Who’s to say?” Molly was completely still now, save for the very tip of his tail which was twitching slightly back and forth. 

“I was already dying,” Nott said. “You shouldn’t have risked your life like that.” She was – not angry, exactly. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she was feeling, but it felt important to have this conversation. Molly sighed heavily. 

“We’re part of a team now, yeah?” he said. “In a team, you don’t leave people behind. Period.”

“Even if it’s someone you don’t even like?” At this, Molly finally turned to look at her, surprise on his face. 

“Nott, do you think I don’t like you?” Nott shrugged self-consciously, averting her eyes and plucking at the grass in front of her. 

“Well, I do, for what it’s worth,” he said, going back to staring at the sky. “I know we don’t always get along. But that’s how families work, yeah? You drive each other crazy, you fight and argue, but at the end of the day, you’re there for each other.” 

“Yeah,” Nott found herself whispering. “Yeah, I – I get that.” If Mollymauk heard the break in her voice, he kindly didn’t mention it. They both went back to stargazing in silence for a little while. 

“Hey Mollymauk?” 

“Yes dear?” 

“Thank you. For not leaving me in the forest.” 

She saw Molly’s crooked smile out of the corner of her eye. “What else is family for, darling?” 

Family. Hmm. 

She hadn’t expected to ever have one of those again.


	4. Yasha

“Hey – hey! Thief! Someone stop her!” 

Nott abandoned any pretense of nonchalance and booked it, darting past surprised customers and heading for the door of the shop. Her bag was weighed down with a variety of stolen items, some useful and some just shiny, and she cursed herself for getting too greedy. She should’ve moved on about four bracelets ago, but this was the sort of high-end tailor shop frequented by the sort of very rich, very grumpy people who made irresistible targets. 

She made it to the door a half step ahead of her most recent victim, a tall, thin man with a terrible mustache, and didn’t hesitate as she joined the rush of people on the street, hoping to lose him in the crowd. But he was close behind her, and she cringed as his shouts began to draw attention. 

“Thief! That girl’s a thief! Someone grab her!”

Up ahead, she saw a couple of Crownsguard moving with quick, purposeful steps as they turned in her direction. She cursed and spun around, dashing back past the man chasing her. The man’s continuing shouts were ensuring that every eye in the place was focused on her. _Fuck. _

She scanned the street frantically, blood roaring in her ears as she ran. More Crownsguard up ahead. They hadn’t noticed her yet, but they would in a moment. Crownsguard behind her, and a couple people nearby looking like they might start getting grabby if she hung around too long. Making a split-second decision, she peeled off to the right, down an empty alley. It wasn’t ideal – her pursuers must have seen her enter and now she didn’t have the cover of the crowd – but all she needed to do was make it back to the street, and hopefully use the crowd there to lose them for good. No problem. This was fine! 

The alley was a dead end. Never mind, she was fucked. 

She hesitated for just a moment, glancing back at the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, and then jumped at the wall in front of her. Her fingers scrabbled against grimy brick but just as she found some purchase, a hand grabbed the back of her cloak and hauled her off the wall. 

“Miss, you’ve been accused of – oh fuck, is that a _goblin?”_

Nott snarled as she was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Two Crownsguard stood before her, completely blocking the narrow alley, and behind them was the man she had stolen from, looking smug. 

“It is,” said the other Crownsguard, stooping to peer at her. “How’d one of them get all the way into the city?” 

“No, no! This is, uh, just a skin condition?” Nott tried. The guards ignored her. 

“Do we still bring it in?” one asked dubiously. 

The other shrugged. “What else are we going to do with it?” 

Nott had her own suggestions for what they could do, but before she could voice any a quiet voice cut through the alley. 

“Excuse me, but you have my friend there,” it said, and Nott could have cried. She’d never been so happy to hear Yasha’s voice.

Both Crownsguard turned around, hands instinctively going to swords. Yasha loomed in the entrance to the alley, face impassive. 

“Your friend is a thief,” spit the man who had called the guards in the first place. “She took a _very_ valuable pocket watch from me, and who knows what else! She’s a public menace.” 

“You must be mistaken,” Yasha said firmly, “I am sure Nott would never do such a thing.” Nott tried very hard to look innocent.

“Are you calling me a liar?” the man said, swelling indignantly. “I’ll have you know -” 

“Sir, ma’am, please,” one of the guards said wearily. He looked at Yasha, visibly paling as his eyes traveled up her height and focused on the sword strapped to her back. “Your . . . friend . . . has been accused of theft, and we have to investigate that. And, well.” He paused, looking at Nott and then at Yasha. “She’s a goblin? They’re not allowed in the city, they aren’t. We’ll have to bring her in.” 

Nott surreptitiously wrapped a hand around her dagger, and then hesitated. This town didn’t seem the sort of backwater village that would kill a goblin on sight, but that didn’t mean a stay in their jail would be safe or pleasant for her, and she didn’t want to find out firsthand if she could help it. 

On the other hand, she was already on thin ice as a goblin and as a thief. If she fought back, it was likely they would just kill her and be done with it. And even if she could escape the guards – which she wasn’t sure of under the current circumstances – attacking them would bring the full wrath of the Crownsguard down on the Mighty Nein. Best case scenario, they’d have to flee town. Worst case scenario . . . maybe it was best to just go along with it for now and hope she could escape later.

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. My friend here would never steal something from such an upstanding gentleman as yourself,” Yasha said blandly. “And we are leaving town soon in any case. I don’t think there’s any need for her to be arrested.” 

“I – uh, I’m very sorry, but -” 

The other guard muttered something before shoving his friend aside. “Listen. You expect us to believe that goblin don’t have half the town’s purses in that bag? Her kind ain’t allowed here for a reason. We’re takin’ her in and the lawmaster can decide what’s to be done with her. You wanna argue, you can join her in a cell.” 

“Oh, I see. In that case,” Yasha said, and punched him in the face. 

He crashed to the ground as everyone else in the alley yelped and drew weapons. The man Nott had stolen from shrieked, stumbling backwards a little in his haste to escape the alley. Nott clutched at her dagger, brandishing it in front of her, but everyone’s eyes were on Yasha at the moment. 

Yasha didn’t hesitate, unsheathing her sword in one fluid motion before the guard had even finished falling, and turned to face the other one. To his credit, he stood his ground and raised his sword in shaking hands. 

Nott spared a glance at the guard Yasha had punched, but it was evident that he wouldn’t be contributing to the fight anytime soon. He wasn’t quite unconscious, but he definitely wasn’t all there. Nott winced a little. She might not like the man, but Yasha could pack a punch.

Confident that the man was out of the picure, Nott launched herself at the remaining guard, cannonballing into the back of his knees and sending him flying to the ground. The fight was brought to an abrupt end as Yasha brought the hilt of her sword down on the man’s head with an audible crack. Nott and Yasha both winced. 

“We should . . . probably leave,” Yasha said. 

“Good idea,” Nott said. “That man will be bringing more Crownsguard soon, and we should probably not be here when that happens.” 

They left the alley, Nott peeking around the corner cautiously to see if anyone was waiting for them. With the coast clear, they merged with the crowd, trying their best to look inconspicuous. It didn’t work, but Yasha’s towering frame and massive sword seemed to dissuade anyone from asking any questions. 

Yasha was twitchier than usual on the way back to the inn, her eyes constantly leaping and darting around the street. A few times, she pulled Nott aside into alleys or shops to avoid Crownsguard heading in their direction, and they waited with bated breath to see if they’d been spotted. 

They reached the inn without incident though, and they both breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung closed behind them. 

“Well . . . thank you,” Nott said awkwardly. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to address Yasha. She was around so rarely, it was hard to really get to know her. But she’d been getting more comfortable with Yasha lately, now that she was relatively certain that Yasha was only frightening to their enemies.

“Of course, no problem,” Yasha said softly, and it was then Nott noticed that she was shaking slightly. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, a little louder than she’d meant to be. Yasha made a frantic shhh motion, glancing around to see if anyone was taking note of their conversation. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s go sit down or something.” 

“Sure,” Nott said. “I could use a drink anyway.” 

They settled into a corner booth, Yasha pressing her back against the wall where she could easily keep an eye on the rest of the room. Her hands still trembled.

“Are you alright?” Nott asked again. She hadn’t seen Yasha get hit, she hadn’t even thought the guard would have had time to strike at her. Worried eyes ran up and down Yasha’s form, looking for signs of injury. 

“Yes. I am just a little shaken up, I suppose,” Yasha said quietly. 

“What, because of the fight? That was nothing! I’ve seen you take down way bigger monsters than a couple of guards!”

“I don’t really like the Crownsguard,” Yasha said tightly, looking away. “They make me nervous.”

“Oh,” Nott said. “Why?” She knew she was being nosy but she couldn’t help but be curious. Yasha was so cool and tough! It was hard to imagine her being afraid of anything, let alone some two-bit guards in a backwater town. 

“The Crownsguard . . . they jail people,” Yasha said. “I don’t like being locked up. It makes me nervous, not to be able to move freely. And it would mean I couldn’t go if the Stormlord called me.” 

Yasha’s tone was casual, but although her shaking had subsided she still looked tense and – now that Nott was looking for it – scared. Nott suddenly was reminded of the first time they’d met Yasha, after the fiasco at the circus. She’d run from the guards then too, hadn’t she? This was obviously a bigger deal for her than she wanted to let on. 

“Well. Then thank you. For – for helping,” Nott said. 

“Oh, well, of course,” Yasha said softly. “I’ll always help you, Nott. We are friends, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” Nott said. She smiled. “Yeah, of course we’re friends. And don’t worry. If you ever got locked up, we’d come break you out!”

Yasha laughed. “I am sure you would,” she said. “I’m sure it would be very entertaining.” 

“Yeah,” Nott agreed, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Hey Yasha?” 

“Yes Nott?” 

“I _definitely_ stole from that man.” 

“Yes, I figured as much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
